


Comfort

by die_traumerei



Series: Bike Girls [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Injury Recovery, Kissing, New Relationship, Recovery, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), abusive past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Set just a few days after they meet. They run into Gabrielle while out, and talk about things over coffee and cakes, and Aziraphale is very brave and sets some boundaries and did I mention is very brave?(Originally written for Whumptober 2020)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bike Girls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997386
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> cw: a word that begins with c and ends with t is used as an epithet, a character is verbally and emotionally abusive

It took until Monday for them to go just a hair stir-crazy, which even Aziraphale admitted was a feat for her. “I'm rather a homebody,” she explained while Crowley got her boots on. “But I miss different walls.”

Crowley laughed, and made sure Aziraphale was as comfortable as she could be. Which wasn't _very_ , admittedly. Paracetamol could help with the pain in her arm and her neck, but not the fact she couldn't turn her head, or she had to somehow juggle the sling and the neck brace and being down to one non-dominant hand. They were getting good at figuring out what worked for her, and her body, though.

“Don't blame you, sweetheart,” she said, and kissed her, very softly. They were still sort of trying out kissing.

(They had made it all the way to the day after they'd met before they kissed, and decided it wasn't so much that they wanted to go on a date as that they _were dating_ , and then they'd kissed some more. But that's a story for another time.)

Aziraphale smiled and kissed her back, savouring how wonderfully _gentle_ Crowley was. A hand at the small of her back as they left, and she...minded less how awful she looked, with her arm in a heavy bandage and the ugly neck brace.

She lived just a few streets over from Tadfield's sole coffee shop; a few very _pretty_ streets, at least. Everything in Tadfield was very pretty, even a flat in a converted mansion, which was where Aziraphale lived. Way up on the second floor, tucked away in the back where it was quiet and she looked down on the garden, and it was very, very nice. She hadn't needed noise-cancelling headphones since she'd moved hardly at all.

Crowley kept a hand on her the whole walk, grounding and sweet, and they enjoyed the late summer together, admiring a particularly lush garden on the way, and all the little brick houses. Crowley lived in one of those a few streets in the other direction; Aziraphale hadn't seen her house yet, but it was only a matter of time. Once she felt a little better, wasn't spending most of her time in bed, or her big easy chair, she'd go over for dinner or something. In the meantime, Crowley didn't seem bored spending her time in Aziraphale's flat and even sleeping on her sofa.

(Admittedly, it _was_ a terribly comfortable sofa. But still.)

The village was quiet on a Monday afternoon, even when they reached the edge of the High Street. There were a few people in the cafe, and Newt behind the counter, of course.

“Hullo there – oh Christ, Aziraphale, what _happened_ to you?” he asked, a greeting she expected to get used to.

“Bit of a bicycle accident. I look worse than it is,” she said, and wasn't even forcing her cheer. She _felt_ awful, but it really wasn't bad, considering.

Newt made sympathetic noises, and offered to run a sandwich over anytime she needed it, which made Aziraphale blush and protest and, finally, accept.

Crowley just slipped an arm around her shoulders, cuddling her close as they came up to the counter. “My treat,” she said, and Aziraphale protested.

“You've been waiting on me hand and foot!”

“Newt, my treat,” Crowley said, and smiled at her girlfriend. (!!) “You can cover tea for us tonight, if you're so fired up about it.”

“I will then,” Aziraphale sniffed. She'd had to turn her whole torso to just see Crowley looking like the cat that ate the cream, and felt huge and unwieldy and awful. She pivoted back to speak to Newt. “Iced lavender honey latte, please. And a slice of angel cake.”

“Coming right up,” he promised. “Crowley?”

“A pour-over, please,” she said, perusing the list. “The East African one, that looks lovely. Oh, and a flapjack.”

“It's grand,” Newt promised. “I'll bring everything to you when it's done. Sitting out in the garden?”

Crowley pivoted this time so Aziraphale could see her if she canted her eyes over at least. “Oh, let's. It's a beautiful day.”

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale agreed, moving over so Crowley could pay. She knew when she was beat.

Crowley still held her free hand, and it made Aziraphale's heart quiver. Had anyone ever made so _much_ of her? Sure it was honeymoon-phase or whatever, and she obviously felt sorry for Aziraphale, but, well. This also just felt like...how Crowley was? Soft-hearted thing.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Aziraphale, it's been a _weekend_! What the hell happened!”

Aziraphale's eyes closed and she shuddered, pulling her hand away so she could twist the fabric of her dress. “Gabrielle.”

She _felt_ Crowley whip around.

Holy shit. _Holy shit_ . Crowley was so excited to meet the actual dumbest person on all of Planet Earth, the being who was _so stupid_ she _dumped Aziraphale_ . This was going to be amazing. Crowley was going to buy _her_ coffee too, just to say thanks for being a total moron and giving Crowley a shot at paradise.

Gabrielle was – well, she was beautiful, there was no way around it. Dark hair and violet eyes, and wearing a suit that Crowley clocked immediately in the four-digit price range, and not the _low_ four digits. Nails done, hair done, makeup done, oh, she was _good_. Those shoes alone – no ostentatious red bottoms for this lass. There were no flies on Gabrielle.

She was not, however, wearing the expression Crowley had expected. Even if _she_ had taken complete and utter leave of her senses and dumped Aziraphale, if she'd then stumbled on her three days later looking like she'd been through the wars, she would have been _concerned_. Mildly worried, perhaps.

(She had _met_ Aziraphale like this and was about to lose it most nights just before she fell asleep because she had time to remember that this incredible woman had been hurt, and it could have been worse, it could have been so _so_ much worse. So even though it hurt her heart every time Aziraphale made pained little noises or closed her eyes to breathe and rest a moment, or moved stiffly, at least she was well enough to be home, well enough that Crowley caring for her was sufficient, and she didn't need, say, an entire ICU team okay cutting off _that_ train of thought before she lost her shit in a coffee shop.)

Gabrielle's lip was curling in disgust, and Crowley abruptly grasped a little more of what Aziraphale had recently been through that hadn't involved taking a header into a ditch.

“Oh _hello_ ,” Crowley trilled brightly, still thrilled to meet the stupidest person alive. “Fancy running into you here!”

“Jesus Christ, I leave you alone for three days,” Gabrielle muttered, while Newt and the other customers were very English and extremely carefully ignored the little drama taking place. “Also, sorry, who are _you_?”

“I had a small accident on my bike,” Aziraphale said softly. “Crowley was right there. She got me to A&E, and she's been helping me since then. We're dating,” she added, proud and defiant.

“Oh. How...nice.” Gabrielle looked Crowley up and down.

Crowley looked Gabrielle up and down.

Gabrielle looked away first. “Well! Honestly, Aziraphale, you've brought it on yourself, you ought to have started...slower. You know you're not very active.”

“Hey now,” Crowley said sharply. “It was an accident. I've seen pro cyclists do the exact same thing she did and get taken out just as badly. It's not her fault at _all_.” She touched Aziraphale's shoulder. “I promise you,” she said softly. “You weren't doing anything wrong, you were doing great, actually.”

Aziraphale smiled and wished she could look down properly. She was surely wrinkling her dress terribly, twisting it in her free hand so hard. “Thank you, dearest.”

Gabrielle whistled low. “That was fast.” She eyed Crowley again. “Good luck with her or whatever. Aziraphale, _try_ to not be so awkward?”

Oh, _that's_ how it was. Gabrielle was a bully, simply a bully, which meant she'd be easy to deal with.

Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale, shielding her from even having to look at this awful woman. “Shut up. Go away. She's her own woman, not mine. I adore her, but she's _hers_. And she's not awkward, you stupid cunt, she's taking care of herself. Bugger off, will you? She's hurt, and you can't even scrape up some sympathy.”

“Well!” Bullying _coward_ , she turned tail and stalked out.

Crowley whipped around again and put her arms very, very gently around Aziraphale, careful as she drew her in. “It's okay, baby,” she murmured. “You're so brave. Jesus Christ, what a bitch.”

Aziraphale laughed shakily. “Yes. I...yes.”

“Go find us a seat, honey,” Crowley said gently. “You need a moment?”

“Please?”

Crowley smiled at her, and kissed her cheek. “I need to apologize to Newt for scaring off a customer,” she admitted, and Aziraphale smiled back at her, and made her way out to the back garden.

“You really don't,” Newt said. “She _is_ a cunt, for the record.”

“Yep, got that,” Crowley said drily. “Somewhere in there.”

Newt, who was working on her pour-over, smirked at her. “I've got another two minutes on this. She'll be okay?”

Crowley nodded. “She just needs a few minutes to herself. I can take our things out.”

Newt bowed his head in acknowledgement; Aziraphale's drink was already done, even with a straw, good lad. She couldn't really move her head enough to make drinking easy; straws helped. All the little things they'd learned together to make her just a bit more comfortable.

When her coffee was done, Newt assembled a tray for her with their food and drinks, and slipped in a croissant. “They're her favourites,” he said, when Crowley looked like she was going to protest.

In revenge, she put a tenner in his tip jar, and carried the tray out to the little garden out back.

“Ready for me?” she asked called softly from the door. She _would_ go back inside and make small talk if Aziraphale needed her to.

Aziraphale just turned – oh, Christ, watching her move, she was hurting inside and out, and Crowley wanted to wrap her up in a duvet and kiss her for hours until she was holding a wriggling ball of pure joy made into a person. She just...wanted Aziraphale to be _happy_. That was all, truly. How could you know this girl and not want her to be happy?

(All right, if having a lot of sex also made Aziraphale happy that would be _excellent_ . But it wasn't even the driving force, and that's when Crowley should have known that she was _gone_. For the rest of her life, it turned out.)

“Yes, of course. Sorry about that.”

Crowley set the tray down and moved to kind of...press Aziraphale to her, something like a hug where Aziraphale's head rested on her stomach and she could stroke the poor girl's hair and give her some kind of comfort. “You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. You poor darling. You're safe, I promise, I'll keep you safe.”

Aziraphale sighed and slumped against her, eyes fluttering closed. “I ripped my dress. At the seam.”

Crowley made a consoling little noise. “I know I don't look it, but I _can_ sew a seam. We'll get you sorted out back home, honey.”

Another little sigh. “Thank you. So much.”

“'course, angel. I've got you,” Crowley comforted her. “Do you want to go home? We can bring everything with us.”

“No,” Aziraphale said with more courage. “I'm not...overwhelmed, exactly. And if I don't stay out for a bit I'm going to go all yellow wallpaper on you.”

Crowley laughed and knelt so she could kiss Aziraphale, just for a moment. “I get it. I broke my foot a few years ago and I think I went a bit doolally for a few weeks there.”

Aziraphale smiled, at her, and touched her cheek. “Poor lass. I'm all right. Sit and eat something.”

“You too,” Crowley ordered, taking her seat. “The croissant's for you, by the way. On the house.”

“Newt is going to nice himself out of business,” Aziraphale grumbled. She also took a big bite, and something in Crowley's belly got warm. Aziraphale really _was_ going to be all right; they'd sort her dress out at home and she was relaxed again – as much as she could be, anyway.

“If I may ask – how did you break your foot, dearest?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley's heart did a little flip-flop at 'dearest'.

“Oh,” she said. “It was dumb, really. Uh. I might have got a little drunk? And tried to prove I could ride a gravel bike down a pretty gnarly hill?”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale was smiling though, like she couldn't help it. “You didn't.”

“I did, actually,” Crowley said proudly. “Sure, halfway through I almost wiped out and I snapped a few metatarsals, but I made it to the end!”

“Picture me politely applauding,” Aziraphale told her. “You disaster.”

“Uh huh.” Crowley broke off part of her flapjack and ate it proudly. “You ever broken anything before, honey?”

“No. Well, I don't know,” Aziraphale admitted. “I fell down some stairs a couple years ago and my hand was a little messed up for awhile. It didn't seem worth it to get it checked, but I don't know. It really hurt.”

“Oh, angel. Which hand?”

“Right.” Which was the arm she'd broken – poor lass. Well, nothing had shown up terribly wrong on the x-ray – other than the expected break in her wrist – and anyway now Crowley was around to nag her into medical care.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Zira, but if I hadn't come along, would you have gone to hospital?” Crowley asked carefully.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said immediately, and Crowley relaxed a little. She did have some self-preservation! “I think they're being a bit silly about my neck, but the brace does help a lot, so I suppose I did hurt something there. And it was pretty obvious my wrist wasn't in good shape.”

“Good,” Crowley said. “Look, I don't...want to presume. Your relationships are yours, but based on what I experienced of your ex just now. Uh. Aziraphale. You're really special. You're really _good_. And you deserve good things. And you deserve to be looked after and cared for. I just...I know we just met and I can't believe I'm stepping out of my lane and it's okay if you're annoyed --”

“Crowley, breathe.” Aziraphale was smiling a little. “I understand. Thank you. I _do_ forget that sometimes. You care, and I appreciate that, all right?”

“Oh. Um. Thanks?”

“You're welcome.” Aziraphale gave a kind of one-shouldered shrug, and winced. “I can mask with the best of them, Crowley. But I'm tired and hurt, so you're getting me unfiltered. I'm sorry if it's too much.”

“You will never in your whole life be too much for me,” Crowley said without thinking. “Uh. I mean it. I don't understand everything about autism and you're _you_ and it's going to be unique to you, but...I want to? I want to know what helps, and what I can do, and what you can do. And I want you to know you aren't too much. And that I really, really like you.”

“You've never seen me hyperfixate yet,” Aziraphale warned, smiling a little, and perhaps her eyes were a little shinier than usual.

“Okay.” Crowley shrugged and took a slug of her drink. “We'll deal with it. I'm not always good with words. Sometimes I won't have the right ones. But I'll... _we'll_ figure it out. Deal?”

“Deal,” Aziraphale said, face absolutely shining, and Crowley, oh, Crowley would do _anything_ to keep her that happy.

They lingered over coffee and cakes, Crowley taking a few bites of angel cake at Aziraphale's urging, but mostly she watched Aziraphale eat, slowly and savouring, and tried to think of conversation topics that weren't 'gosh you're so pretty let's just talk about how _pretty_ you are'. That was more of a bedroom thing, she liked to think.

“This is nice,” Aziraphale said suddenly, after they'd got done arguing about some books they'd both read. “Sorry, just – this is so nice, Crowley. Thank you.”

Crowley blinked. “Angel – thank _you_. You're right, this is lovely.” She smiled, and caught Aziraphale's eye, just for a second. Just enough so she knew the smile was for _her_ , but not long enough to make her uncomfortable. “Spending so much time with you is really fun.”

Aziraphale blushed a little. “You must need to go back to work soon, though.”

Crowley shrugged. “Not really. I might do some stuff next time we're at mine, if you can spare me, but I pushed all my deadlines back a week. Figured that would see you through the worst.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was wide-eyed. “You shouldn't do that for me.”

“Fine, then I'm doing it for me,” Crowley said easily. “For both of us, like. I'm enjoying having long days free to flirt with a pretty girl and help her feel better.”

“Oh, you.” Aziraphale was smiling and oh – yes! A tiny little proto-wiggle! Crowley was _winning_!

“Oh, me,” Crowley teased her, and there was a bigger smile, her pretty girl. She reached out and rested her hand on Aziraphale's cheek, gentle where it lay against the big neck brace. “Really truly. It's quiet for me right now. My clients are all pretty chill anyway, it's kind of a condition of working with me. I'd rather be kind to you, and get coffee and have cuddles.”

Aziraphale couldn't tilt her head, but she somehow did lean into Crowley's hand, sort of. “Am I good to you back? I mean – what's in it for you? I'm not a catch.”

Crowley touched her cheekbone, brushing it with her thumb, and thought about her words carefully. There was no sense in being glib here. She traced Aziraphale's ear with a fingertip, and then tapped her nose and made her go cross-eyed and smiling.

“I know we haven't known each other for very long,” she said. “But I think you are a catch. I like you a lot. I mean, obviously. You speak it's a little hard to believe, but I'll remind you loads. Yes, you are so good to me. You're caring and sweet and sharp, and I like that a lot. You're not afraid to tease me, and that makes me happy, but you don't hurt with your words. You're very smart, and very interesting, and very pretty. I'm sorry if this is a lot, but it's what's in my heart right now. What's in it for me is – time with my girlfriend. You make me happy, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled slow and sweet. “You make me happy too. I'm sorry. Um. I think. Gabrielle wasn't. Good for me?”

Crowley nodded, not pressing further, and reached for Aziraphale's good hand instead, and squeezed. “I'm sorry. I hope I'm good for you. I mean, for as long as I know you, I hope I'm good for you.”

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed back. “You are. Are you done your coffee? We should head back.” She sighed. “Time for the next round of paracetamol.”

“Oh, honey,” Crowley consoled. “You'll start to feel better soon,” she said, stacking their dishes on the tray.

“I hope so,” Aziraphale said quietly, so soft and sad that Crowley knelt down in front of her and pulled her into a real hug, kneeling between her legs to get close.

“I promise,” she murmured, stroking her back. “You're getting your cast soon, and that'll be lighter and easier than this old thing. Your body is working so hard, but those bones are stitching back together. Soon this'll just be a memory, a funny story you tell someday, like me and my broken foot.”

Aziraphale hugged her back with her good arm. “I don't know about funny. But you're right. I'm sorry, I'm all over the place.”

“Can't imagine why.” Crowley kissed her, and kissed her again. “Angel-girl. Sit tight, and let me take care of everything.”

Aziraphale smiled, clearly gathering her courage. “I know we just had a big talk about how much we like each other but, um, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything,” Crowley said. Did Aziraphale want a star of her very own? Crowley could make that happen.

“Can you help me with my pills and stuff and then, um. Can I be alone, please?” Aziraphale blinked hard. “I understand if you don't want to take me back to hospital tomorrow, I'm being really bratty and using you as my personal chauffeur--”

“Shhh.” Crowley smiled and touched her shoulder. “Oh my God, Aziraphale. Of course. No insult taken. And of _course_ I'll take you to get your cast tomorrow, and home too. And stay if you like, or not. I _understand_. You've been through an awful lot the last few days.” She hugged her again. “You are _not_ being bratty. You're taking care of yourself and that is all I ever, _ever_ want for you.”

“You have to promise me to take care of yourself too,” Aziraphale said firmly, rubbing Crowley's back. “Do something really, really nice for yourself tonight. Rest, or do work, but do something that makes you happy. You have to promise.”

Crowley smiled. “Smart girl. I'm not good at taking care of myself really, hope you like riding my ass about that. But I promise you. I'll do a little work, and open a bottle of wine, and watch an old film or something. Sound good?”

“Acceptable,” Aziraphale said, and groaned. “Damn, I can't turn my head. Will you please kiss me? If you want to, I mean.”

Crowley laughed out loud and drew back, kissing Aziraphale for a good long spell, and then of course, it was time to go, to squire her home and get her settled, and take her own self home and live up to her promise.

Besides, she'd see Aziraphale again tomorrow, and would have to account for her actions.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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